


Harlequin's Dance

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-27
Updated: 2006-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He resembles a harlequin, she thinks, fine-boned and pale-masked with his delicate lips and haunted eyes. He's a pedant, a traitor, a martyr, a coward, a belated hero, the one enigma in this open-hearted family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harlequin's Dance

**Author's Note:**

> 100 words x 6. I started writing Percy/Hermione drabbles as responses to the weekly prompt challenges at Books_Freckles on LJ. They form a small story, so I'm posting them together.

_A shower_

The shower's running, steam curling out below the door. The bathroom's been occupied for fifty minutes, an eternity when you need to go in the middle of the night. Hermione sighs and knocks.

"Almost finished?"

The shower turns off instantly. Sounds of haste from inside end when the door opens, revealing Percy wrapped in a threadbare flannel robe.

He averts his face and mumbles, "Sorry." His clavicle, rope-scarred, juts pale as stripped bone.

"S'okay," she whispers, slipping by.

He leaves and she's cold, shivery with pity. She suspects how he came to feel that filthy, showering for hours every night.

 

_Blindfold_

They found him hanging from the wall, blindfolded. On his knees, bloodied and half-conscious, he waited for Avada Kedavra, the only escape left him by his final choice.

"Do it then." There was courage, but no bravado in the plea. He'd been held that way for days.

Ron was stumbling across to him; Harry raised his wand. It was she who thought to speak, choking out, "Percy--"

Cracked lips opened on a sigh. "Hermione?"

"Harry killed him. It's over."

As Percy sagged on Ron's arm, Ron hugged him gently, forgiving his blind brother then although he'd forget to later.

 

_Outside_

He resembles a harlequin, she thinks suddenly, fine-boned and pale-masked with his delicate lips and haunted eyes. He's a pedant, a traitor, a martyr, a coward, a belated hero, the one enigma in this open-hearted family. He must have always stood outside.

He was at his cross for seven nights. Surely that's adequate redress for his sins? He was never cruel, only a pompous fool, and the foolishness was flayed off him with Cruciatus and Imperius.

The next time the twins pounce on him, she lowers her book, eyes narrow, voice whispering steel. 

"It's enough," she says, "more than enough."

 

_A letter_

He's hunched over the garden table, quill scratching, stopping after the first cluster of words. His head droops, bumblebees and swallows busy around him.

"Can I sit down?" she asks, hesitant.

He starts. "Please."

"Writing a letter?"

He takes away his arms with grim recklessness, and she reads:

_Dear Mother,_

_~~Plea~~ Please forgive ~~everything~~ me_

"Say 'Mum'," says Hermione, "as usual."

"Know-it-all." His lips quirk.

"Just let her give you a hug."

He takes off his glasses. They sit in silence. The August night is the loveliest tender blue; it seems too soft to support the weight of his sadness.

 

_Wedding_

Quietly, Percy makes his way to her.

"Enjoying the wedding?"

"It's beautiful. Padma is radiant."

He smiles -- at her non-answer? She realizes it's the first time she's seen him smile in years. "She is. And Ron's an idiot."

"For marrying a woman he wants? Hardly." It's honest too, for all that she's little choice but to be gracious.

He shakes his head. "Ignore me. I'm unwilling and uninvited."

"Molly wants you here."

He actually laughs, softly, desperate. Hermione blinks, then rises. 

"Dance with me."

He goes white, then red under those Weasley freckles.

"Me?"

She smiles, shrugs. "You, Percy Weasley."

 

_Heatwave_

The summer's sweltering. Weasley skin burns quickly, and Percy is the fairest of them all. He's flushed above his collar, near scarlet down his neck.

Hermione holds the bottle up before him.

"And that is ...?"

"A Muggle remedy for sunburn."

He reaches for it but she shakes her head. She unbuttons his shirt, fingers all trembling. Cool aloe in her palm, smoothing over him -- sunburn, freckles, chest hair, scars. His heartbeat is a hammer through his chest, on her fingertips.

Hands lift her hair, touching like a question. Late summer heat, heavy and sullen, breaks over them in thunderous waves.

 

-end-


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